Infestation
by Kimsa Ki-Lurria
Summary: It was bound to happen eventually. One simply couldn't have an enormous candy factory and not attract THEM. What he hadn't expected was for it to get this out of hand...


A/N: Ever since Chem class at approximately 8:37 a.m. yesterday morning, my mind has been plagued with how Mr. Wonka always kept his factory so impossibly, impeccably clean. It's practically a castle of candy, for sanity's sake! Anyway…my mind refused to accept that such a thing was possible, and to pacify itself twisted up this disturbed little piece of writing. Enjoy. And Happy Halloween. I hope it rains on all the little kiddies.

...Just kidding. :P

Title: Infestation

Rating: R. Nice, firm R. Or T. Haven't quite made up my mind yet...

Genre: Horror/Suspense...and according to my beta, Humor (??).

Warnings: dead Oompa Loompas, Willy in distress, disturbing images and themes, blah, blah, blah…it's horror, luvs. Take a guess. ;)

Disclaimer: No. Just...no.

Comments: This is the 2005, Depp-version Willy Wonka. I suppose you could substitute Gene Wilder's version if you wanted to...that's based on your preference. To **KITA KUDAI**: a big thanks for your beta-reading, and on such short notice when you have such a hectic lifestyle! And for the...humor genre suggestion...huh.

Summary: It was bound to happen eventually. One simply couldn't have an enormous candy factory and _not_ attract THEM. What he hadn't expected was for it to get this out of hand...

* * *

_infestation_

* * *

"_Everything in this room is eatable, even _I'm _eatable!"_

_-Willy Wonka_

* * *

He could hear THEM skittering behind the door. Their little legs clattered noisily over the ground as they marched, their mandibles clicking and chattering as they rushed his barricade in swarms.

_Thump, thump, thump._

They came in quick, short bursts, buffeting the door with everything they held in their tiny bodies. The thick table he'd wedged tightly against the portal creaked under the pressure, and the dusty blanket shoved in the cracks beneath it trembled and writhed as they pushed to get through.

He held his breath.

_Thump, thump._

They retreated, and he breathed again.

He imagined they were discussing on how best to eat him after they broke through his last defense. Roast him, cook him, sauté him if he was especially unlucky, or maybe just overwhelm him and chew and chew until there was nothing left.

Like what they'd done with the Oompa Loompas. They were even easier prey than him, with their short, stubby legs and ungainly waddle. They hadn't stood a chance.

He bleakly wondered if the last ones had stopped twitching yet. He'd taken off running too soon to look back and check, but not so quickly that he hadn't been spared the sight. They were still burned in his mind, a fresh and painful memory — the sight of them flailing their arms and waving their stocky legs in the air as they were swiftly suffocated by THEM had reminded him of some kind of grotesque marionette play, put on especially for him. Funny. He'd never thought of the Oompa Loompas as puppets before. They didn't even look like puppets, so very unlike Pinocchio with his wooden joints and limbs.

He wondered if his father might read him a story about Pinocchio when he got out of here…that would certainly bring a smile to his face. He needed to smile.

His jaw cracked in protest as he split his lips wide, baring pearly-white teeth in a plastic toy's grin. An old saying, a distant line from a separate, hazy life, drifted into his head.

_Smile. Don't forget to smile, even when the chips are down!_

Chips. As in real, literal chips? Those salty, crispy things kept in crinkled bags and sold at the supermarket? Those chips?

Oh, no, THEY wouldn't like chips. They only liked sugar. Sugar as in chocolate, as in his factory, as in mild-mannered Oompa Loompas, as in…

Him.

The skittering returned, and he jumped as the door trembled — no, shuddered — under the weight of a thousand crawling bodies. He got to his feet, feeling the muscles around his mouth begin to ache from smiling too much.

Keep smiling. He had to keep smiling.

Even when the chips were down.

Ha.

_Thump, thump, thump._

The door began to give way.

* * *

It all started with a single line of ants.

And that, of course, had started with one ant – one tiny, insignificant little ant. Willy hadn't known what to think of it when he'd found it creeping up his gloved hand, exploring the smooth expanse of plum-colored leather with its probing antennae.

_Ants, here? _he thought. _Now that's something even more wondrous than if I found a flavor of candy that I didn't like! _And it was indeed a wonder, for in his entire time inside his marvelous chocolate factory, Willy Wonka had never seen a single ant. Ever.

Until that day.

An Oompa Loompa had reached up to take it from him. It'd quashed the minute creature between its thick fingers, its somber expression unwavering even as it wiped away the black residue smeared over its dark skin. Willy had been astonished by this random, seemingly unfeeling act of violence; of course, the Oompa Loompas had come from a terrible land where every waking moment was a fight for survival, but he had never seen them use outward aggression against any living being that posed no threat. Because, he thought, how could such a little thing be a threat? It was an ant. They liked sugar, he knew, and were at best a minor problem if their numbers were many, but this one was alone — so far as he could see.

And the Oompa Loompa had crushed it without even batting an eyelid.

He was convinced that this was the reason the Oompa Loompas had been the first ones to go.

It was only after that first ant that THEY had come. Hundreds of them. Hundreds upon thousands of them. More than he could count in years, let alone the mere seconds he was allowed before they burst in through the foundations.

They came through everywhere — the cracks in the ceiling and the floor and the walls, even through the great bolted doors themselves, leaking through in a torrential mass of writhing, convulsing bodies. They dripped through the pipe lines like living, ebony water droplets, forming black waves that would sooner consume you than drown you.

Everything — his beautiful candy garden, his chocolate waterfall, the whipped cream, the cotton candy, even the infirmary room, for Pete's sake — fell under a tidal wave of gleaming black creatures, devoured in a matter of minutes. Willy Wonka's famous chocolate factory was infiltrated and infested, and all he could do was run, a prisoner in the very world he had created.

He ran until he couldn't breathe, ran until he needed the twitching of his faithful Oompa Loompas to drive him on — oh, those poor creatures; he severely regretted ever bringing them to his factory now — ran until he found a room he'd forgotten existed and holed himself in as tightly as he could under the current circumstances.

They had followed and cornered him, of course, their belatedness only thanks to the unwilling sacrifice of his dearest, stubbiest companions. And now they were breaking in, and he was about to be sautéed or worse, and there was no time for reminiscence of dead beings.

* * *

Willy's smile was beginning to fade. Even his infamous cheer faltered under the thundering on his door.

_Thump, thump, THUMP —_

He heard the change in sound and knew they'd broken through. It had only been a matter of time.

But they did not come through. Instead, they paused, he was sure he heard them knock politely on the door.

_Knock, knock._

Willy swallowed the dryness in his throat and forced his lips to move upwards again in some half-dead semblance of a smile.

"Wh-who's there?" he called weakly.

The door buckled and snapped, wood splintering at his feet as they poured in.

_WE ARE! _They seemed to cry.

_Smile, Willy Wonka! _

They tickled his skin, and the prickling feeling, along with that old saying, brought his smile into full bloom.

_Even when the chips are down! Smile!_

* * *

A/N: …Did I just kill him? I don't know…that's up to you. Maybe you can concoct some miraculous escape for our dear chocolatier. Maybe you can't. Pfft, I can't.

Reviews would be nice, but I'm not begging. Just as long as you all sleep well tonight. ;)

-Kimsa


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